


Rubberband

by Marsalias



Category: Ben 10
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, body modification of dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/pseuds/Marsalias
Summary: How many times can you stretch a rubber band before it no longer snaps back?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Rubberband

**Author's Note:**

> Made this because tumblr user ben-ten-setting-omicron mourned that there weren't more fics like this in the Ben 10 fandom. Probably won't make more Ben 10 fics, I'm just visiting from the Danny Phantom phandom.

How many times could someone stretch a rubber band before it broke? Before it could no longer snap back?

Ben wondered. 

He wondered as he tasted sulfur on his tongue and the sleep sand in his eyes turned teal. He wondered as a ghost tried to walk away with his skin. Genetic memory. How many others were like that, overlooked by the watch’s creator?

Or did he merely ignore the implications, too focused on bringing the work to fruition?

The days after he had been Wildmutt, he spent hours trying not to breathe too deeply. Some days he woke up thinking in binary, thinking like Upgrade. It was better than thinking like Greymatter, no matter how much he loved being smart.

(No matter how much he loved being a hero, loved helping people.)

How many of his thoughts were _his?_

How could they be his if his intelligence wasn’t?

What was he, if these things lingered on him like ice after a frost? What would it take for the sun to come up, or was winter all that there was?

He could not take off the watch. He didn’t _want_ to.

Would he, if it were gone? If, under fluorescent lights, he couldn’t trace green-black veins winding under his skin, up his arms?

Power was addictive, or so he’d heard. 

(He had the chance to leave it behind. He didn’t take it.)

A month on the road. Then more. He had allergies no one had ever heard of before, especially not him, and, as much as he hated it, sometimes he found himself craving the weird things Grandpa Max made. 

Grandpa was good about those things. Grandpa was good about a _lot_ of things. Too many. Too many, when Ben caught him out of the corner of his eyes, looking sad when he thought Ben wouldn’t see it. Looking frightened.

(Later, Ben forgave him for the secrets, but if he had _known-_

Could it have made a difference?)

There was a kind of _awe_ to it all. (To be unmade so completely.)

He wondered- Was it on purpose? Azmuth must have known. Making a weapon of peace to balance his weapon of war. Was it an anvil, to forge any sword that lay upon it into a plowshare? A thousand tiny adjustments, a thousand tiny cuts, implemented at the moment of change. Would Vilgax have noticed, like Ben did? 

It could be a side effect. 

What was the Omnitrix doing, that cost all that power? What was it doing, when it lay ‘dormant?’ When he overused it, did it bring him back completely, or-?

Sometimes, he laid awake at night, longing for places he’d never been to. Sometimes, he dreamed of them. 

More importantly: He helped people.

What was one to infinity? What was ten?

One day, when the skin at his joints was red and grey and his muscles twitched a little faster than they had any right to, Kevin told him that he _wanted_ this, and Ben had to do everything in his power not to laugh. 

Ben wanted this. Was it enough? He helped people. 

He helped people.

This wasn’t so bad.

He helped people. 


End file.
